Evil Prevails
by D4rK Sid3
Summary: I always knew that love was a façade, but what transpired here it's my secret. I caressed his eyelashes...Can you keep a secret, from monster to monster? Leena/Esther POV


**Author Notes: **Hollywood always makes sure to kill extremely good villains, that's why the movie fan base have so small quantities of sequels after a famous villain is born like Doctor Lecter AKA. Hannibal…and although linear horror movies can be cliché, there's always the case when the disturbed mind of a director actually does a very good job, but tragically kills their creations. This one, is not about it when the author tries to convince you of the evilness of murderous children and how they ought to be destroyed for the good of ol' disparaging humanity, because 'good' it's stupid. I will focus in the psychological and post traumatic stress of the antagonist, and exploit that trait to the highest; not only I'll re-write the finale for something more adequate and definitely more fitting than the good guy triumphs over the bad guy formula. In my fic Esther/Leena is not 33 years old, but a mere 14 years old; ensuring the utmost primal psychotic and disorder traits…also the year of present events it's the year 2006 and of course I like to think more than the orphanage where our favorite psychotic girl grew, is located on Russia and not in Estonia.

**Further Notes: **When I began to write this fic on January; I hadn't really saw the alternative ending. Although a little more on the speculating side, it did show that such ending was indeed possible. This story was before more like a oneshot to exploit that possibility in which Esther survived , killed everyone and moved on to another orphanage where she could begin another cycle of finding her lost love in another family, much likely like she did on the beginning of the movie; which was my objective, to return to the beginning. In any case, on with the show. Oh, one more thing; I wont include the fake teeth of Leena, I think that was kind of dumb.

**Initial and final warning:** Let me say it one time, and one time only. Things are just revolting right here and its rated T for a reason and M in some chapters, I'll portray painful child abuse in my initial chapter as long as I feel necessary, displayed in short burst of repressed memories in all my chapters; Esther life could be even more painful and its my objective to achieve that boiling point in which she became what she is, a man made created child monster. Expressive violence will be something almost daily and I will not spare any of the details, including perhaps gory torture and blood, so let it be a warning for all that read this fic. Indeed it could be my more sadistic work that I have ever written, but it's all necessary, you see? Life isn't fair, and as long as details such as this are spared from real life, sanity will be left intact. So I won't be forgiving, this is just me giving you a taste of real, and I mean real fictional reality, enjoy…

-Disclaimer: Orphan an their characters belong to Jaume Collet and Warner Pictures, all related events are work of fiction and I gain no profit out of writing this.

-Summary: I always knew that love was a façade, but what transpired here it's my secret. I caressed his eyelashes...Can you keep a secret, from monster to monster? (Esther POW)

**Evil Prevails**

**Chapter 1**

Slice of Life

_They__ say, __evil prevails__ when __good men__ fail to __act__. What __they__ ought to say is, __evil prevails__..._

**Yuri Orlov** – Lord of War.

Sirens…

I could hear the sirens swallowing me whole, I did not have much time. Ruined, everything gone burn to a pointless crisp. But she'll learn, now she was the only stumbling block in my way; she'll pay the price of maddening me. As far as my own fuzzy thoughts carried me away, there were still thoughts crashing against each other like an invisible and exasperated solid wall. There are many aspects of human existence that I will never understand, and I don't just mean intellectually. I mean that I lack the ability to empathize, as well as the capacity to feel emotion. To me it doesn't seem like much of a loss, but it does put a great many areas of ordinary human experience completely outside my comprehension. However, there is one almost overwhelmingly common human experience I feel powerfully, and that is temptation. I was tempted to end her life with time, hearing her dying screams…and then poor, poor deaf child Maxxie will be next. Still, I suppose one has to consider human dignity, if it truly exists somewhere. At the moment, looking around the destroyed room with my blurry eyes, that didn't seem possible. My flimsy form hurt, my body gulped up the broken glass like water, and now I awoke from dear inflicted slumber, one more for her; another sweet reason to carve her flesh with my own childish hands.

My lips were broken; my tongue could taste the lovable copper taste of blood, it tasted good, I ran my tongue across my teeth and gums seeking the liquid of my desire, gasping in true surprise from my actions, I shook my head to ease the pain of my head while fail to remember what was transpiring through my head as I licked my own blood. Eyes now adjust to the shattered room all over me. The broken ceiling windows stared at me, as so did the glowing pale moon. The skies were so dark I could barely see anything, but of course there was always a moon that keeps me company, even restless nights as this…no rest for the wicked, and I was certainly that. I could feel the icy fingers of moonlight stroking me, tickling at my spine, urging me into the night to stretch the predator's muscles that had been dormant for too long. The glittery item to my left reflected something that I wanted, red vinyl mirroring something I needed for tonight.

I stood up, the violent whistling of broken glass, body parts crashing in the floor bleeding my ears out. But then again…when given the proper tools it was not so bad. I picked up my blood tarnished knife with a smirk to match the curved handle, now my fingers were glued to it. The blood was still fresh; I could feel it, the warm liquid washing my skin, of course along with a bleeding cut in my hand.

And now my brain reminded me what to do…hello Mr. Brain, how are we feeling today?

The glass cracked under my feet as I walked to the window…I could see them running away, down the woods surrounding our happy dopey home in the middle of fucking nowhere. Perhaps if I can touch my nose with my tongue everything would be okay, or my eyelashes, what do you say Mr. Brain? He…of course was too busy reminding me of what I was doing before this mess. I have been so lonely with it that I could barely reflect what to do next, the instinct of the predator in me pushed me forward, my desire to hunt for somebody to love me endless, time consuming, a quest for eternity knowing that out there, in this rotten world somebody would take notice and I will be loved. He would not care if I have this childish body.

And now Kate pancake down in the cold snow, leaving an easy red trail to follow, it...suits here just fine; it was her color…because it was sure my favorite one. My body tensed for a second, I smelled the frosty air for a moment, tasting it with my tongue. Smelling the blood that ran from her skin, my body felt warm; a small tingle spread to my cunny, the air smelled so good.

They lost themselves into darkness and I planned to follow. Adjust my best dark stalker clothes, glass fell to the broken floor. Shake the snow, some fiber of glass off my hair. With a grin I made my way to the stairs, my feet cranking against the wood. The home felt different now, all the delightful colors gone from this place. And now a desolate broken home remained…dearly me, I forgot something. I walk passed the busted car; the warm fumes coming from the engine gave me a very pleasant and good jolt. I passed the kitchen and into the hallway beautify with so many family photos, some of them were mine, the others…just them.

_The foolish boy, the rejected lover, little Max and the bitch Kate in the last picture…_

I stopped just to look at her smiling face, just to let know my mind what could I do to that expression, to make it…a little more creative, a stroke of my own self. I could not take it anymore, my rage was building fast. I looked down to a wrecked shadow that lay in the floor, and there he was, just like I left him. His eyes were open thick as saucers, his face contorted into a delightful expression of confusion and pain. I liked his eyes for some reason and maybe I could take a souvenir this time, carve his eyes for a memento of my own. I was sure he was the one, oh dear John…well that's the story of love, that's the glory of love, that's the mishap of love. But then again, with a horrified scream of pain not so far away, I needed to care of some business.

_I have some death to do… _

Looking his dead carcass for a moment, I closed his eyes with my fingertips, cutting the distance of my lips with his own. And I stole the first kiss, it was nothing really; there was no reaction, and what do you expect from a corpse? His lips were already cold; the blood that stained his clothes was by now coagulated. With a smile, I stood up sighing, and pull myself together.

I let the monster inside of me take control, grab the wheel of my head and took off running, following the red trail like Dorothy's would follow the yellow brick road, except that instead of Toto, my only companion was that wicked monster and a sharp knife. A sight that I was on track slowly slipping into my night skin as I ran. I could see her, a small flicker of hope that I could gut her prior to get near a cop; she ran up the crystal mountain. Crunchy, crunchy snow as I ran, ran, ran in the s-now, snowy darkly night. And now the monster shouted 'kill her she's so near, cut her neck and be done with it' in our inner ear. I was more than pleased to comply with that order. Since the monster is seldom wrong about these things, I quicken my passé. The outline of her hobble limping form came into focus, the monster was right, and now I'll pay the mortgage I own to it. Was this ting, I mean thing entirely and perfectly natural? Well, of course it is, so are cannibalism and rape, but really. One mustn't ponder about these things when you were a monster incapable of feelings, just needs and desires enclosed in a deflated flesh called brain. And now she was close to the bridge where good Max and I left Sister Judith to her frosty tomb. I licked my lips just screaming my way to her. I kept a mental note to see if everything was in order.

_Subject…Check._

_  
Location…Check._

_  
Desire…Check._

_  
Vengeance…Check._

_Hatred…Check.  
_

_Anger…Check._

_Razor-sharp fillet knife…Check, more than check._

Perhaps stirred by the irony, the almost-perfect moon snickered through the trees. And the longer I stared out dashing with it, the more I felt the weight of that wicked old moon, sputtering softly just under the horizon and already puffing hot and cold at my spine, urging me into action, until I found myself raise my knife-arm high. My hand squeezed the handle of the knife hard, prior to launch my attack, flying through the air and puncturing her body near her left kidney, on top of her ass of granny. She screamed in shock, and I let her; perhaps a bit more to the left, and let her bleed like a Christmas hog. My aiming wasn't that bad right? She squat down in pain, and I could no longer pull out the knife that was trapped firmly in her flesh. I cursed my childish body; I chart to stab in the back, or maybe near her head. Of course, my legs and arms were not capable of reaching that height; not even tiptoeing my feet. So where did that leave me? Turn the knife left and right, until her flesh give in to the stranger's made of stainless steel, and let the blood loss do the rest? I realized that the idea seemed very appealing to me partly because it was quick and easy and if it paid off it would return me to my hard-won liberty in time to sneak out in the cover of the night and find myself again in another quest for love.

And she unwrap me tactics, with a slap I felt sting my cheek, down my carved scar in my neck. Again I felt that pleasant throb of the seared flesh. And howdy me, then it hurt like a bitch. It hurt more when she hit me with the butt of the revolver the held in her right hand. It took me to a theme park of pain; my left temple spat blood and went down with a screaming Kate in the frosty snow of Canada. I hate it, I hated how all woman's at all times grab the nurture scalp of her enemy in a pitiful attempt to bring her to tears or a shameful pain. Her nails that grabbed my hair sliding painfully to my forehead, flesh displayed to the air, wound through wound.

"AHHHHH!"

I couldn't help but scream; her nails chopped at my skin, my blood seared from my wounds to my eyes and cheeks. My maw found her hand and I sink my teeth into as hard as I could into her skin holding the revolver. In my wake of vengeance, the monster wanted to watch her face as I spat a small chunk of flesh. I felt another wave of pain; something pointy sliding into my right side. We rolled again to one side with one scream of deep pain from her, me in top of her; my hand shouted out beneath me and grabbed the strange sharp thing poking at my side and my finger suddenly sliced clean through the edge. But she didn't let me grab it, and I figure it out why. And so poor dutiful Leena instantly attacked the problem with all the resourceful cunning of her powerful brain.

_Hello Herr brain?_

But the sad truth was that my brain seemed to be off-line; no matter how conscientiously I typed in clues, nothing dropped into the out-box. And now something wanted to play, really. For all I care I could just drop dead and let the world forget about me. The monster however, didn't share my thoughts, he spring me into action…he let me know that if I died, if I failed and died right here…all the suffering and sorrow I passed through would be for nothing. All those restless nights in the asylum raped all night along. My screams falling in deaf ears, always hearing those mocking laughs as they slid their manhood's into stiff openings repeatedly.

Ah, typical adrenaline…my heart pumped into my body, and you suddenly like a new young woman fighting for her life. The way Kate seemed to struggle to breathe; doing her best to extinguish my life was a testimony that she was in the same boat as I was. The faster body will win this round. And I let my body embrace that feeling; I could no longer feel a thing. Nor my wounds or my monster, he seemed blocked somehow; my body was now alive in borrowed time. I let my feet catapult my body upward bringing my enemy to a hard fall in the snow. I did sadly not notice visible cracks in the ice; my vision began to dance around me.

Mr. Brain stay with me, it will be over soon.

Have I ever told you, that a large gun looked so funny in the hand of a child of three years old? And then that decipherable bang came; my body jolt from the blast. And I cock around my head just to look at the confused eyes of Maxine, thrown 10 feet away into a slid of snow from the recoil, and now came that wonderful feeling of feeling so free. I was falling, and I felt the cold rush of the air and icy water swallowing me in one piece. Hands were pulling me under, I could no longer fight and I fell. My body responds accordingly to the painful numbness that went through me, burning me alive in ice; it was a brainstorm. They were no thoughts, just a darkness that creaked into my face. I couldn't breath, my skin felt the icy serrated hoarfrost and I couldn't see anything. It took me a moment to realize I got my eyes closed. My eyelashes fluttered open with force, as fast as the weight of water let me; I extended my hand and sharply grabbed the handle that lay fixed into her stomach, it slithered now so easily from her flesh, an awful red spewed out everywhere and blinded me with a scarlet mist for a moment as the water consumed every inch of it; now I didn't have anything to hold into.

That sharp intake of sunken breath, a shriek shadowed by the heavy water. I held of her thrashing ankles, and then she kicked me right in the face. I faded into black, holding the knife, eyes closed themselves. My whole body was in freezing death and it came. Ah, memory. Isn't it a lovely thing? Even when we are in the middle of the worst of times, we have our memories to cheer us. I, for example, lay there helpless, able only to watch as dreadful things happened to me as Kate keep swimming and squirting to reach the surface; fear of drowning urging her to struggle for survival, knowing that soon it would be my turn. But even so, I had my memories.

And what kind of memories? Were they really worth to remember? Far too many memories, too much pain to take at once. The deadness of my body reminded me of the horror. It let me hollow, empty and void of empathy towards another human being; I was not stupid, true love was a farce and a façade of human beings to express their sex drives into each other. Grinding and trusting; for me it was not that casual. There was that harsh thrust into my cunt as it left me broken with the true knowledge of love all those years ago, still vivid as it was yesterday in the asylum. As I could recall my body was ravaged when I was just four, my mind raped at eight. Hollow and a deep hatred towards everything I touched or saw, I hated myself so much. I loathed being so weak with myself. Monster don't hide themselves in closets, they are always out there enclosed in flesh and bone. Tissue and muscle jointing that nerve racking grin, power urging vocal cords to sing their horrifying screams of pleasure, construed from their mouths into a harsh and guttural laughs.

My body fell into the fiery cold floor and I laid there unmoving. I was no longer a little girl; my insides churned. My flesh pulls away, my bones cracked. The water shred my eyes down, I was so furious at displaying a weakness. I turned into that monster that left me no other choice that go forward; I gutted their eyes out, and I ripped their pee wee's and make them chew on them. And now I was that monster, and I let me tell that to myself. A bodily alarm came; my body was scared now to cease to exist. The searing of the sinew, water entering my lungs, my body fights for some air. I felt as my lungs were about to tear away, the gravity of the water pulling my flesh away, my heart exploded against my chest. And I let the monster do the rest; he took control and save me from my current predicament…like he always did. He jeered angrily at me; in my mind, I cowered beneath him as he galloped my feet in the waters.

Absentmindedly I knew what would happen if the wild turbulence and the inner turmoil in my body ended. I could see the water darkening with each passing moment, the feet of Kate were so close now as the ice opened to my gaze, and I could see it; almost touching it, tasting it with my serpent like tongue. My hands shouted out from my body, extending my finger desperately to try and hold something…anything to stop the agony that now spread to my belly and heart. My vision pummel down to the surface, the frosty diamonds cut my eyes from my skull, now my vision blurred…yippee what a joy.

Just a little more, the fingers of my hand buckled…hard, I was forced to drop the knife, it served his purpose quite well; death was a very funny feeling, even when you weren't expecting it…it came for you. The flesh was so weak, give in so easily even for something as a needle might gash it with no trouble. I have a vague impression of that thing, of death. Well given my case, I have given death, take lives so easily and crush their lives in my bloodied grasp. Seen eyes lose their focus and then a shake or two, like a seizure; and they were dead. The concept escaped from me, perhaps this was it. A light cut my view of the world; I was fighting a misplaced battle and my body knew it already. Weeh…now I was going to die…I could feel it. I felt a slap of adrenaline, another rush, one more jolt of electricity surging through my muscles. My body awakened, the light gone, broken, unscrew and thrown away. Now the moonlight lid my path, my feet started to paddle once more, my hand in her own accord grabbed the ankle of Kate that lay above me. It shook with my hand wrapped around it; I wanted to pull myself out of the water, it seemed that the puny and small jolt of power that my body produced was just to keep myself hooked in this world. And I let her pull me with her; I could imagine that in her tired state she did not care about it.

I sighed with a deep scream from relief. Now my lungs burned from the sudden rush of air to my lungs, my heart still beating hard against my chest. I wanted to lick it, taste it. And I could feel her pulse through her skin, my paranoia playing with my mind. It told me from my near death experience, I was yet to incident another one, right now. My hair was so wet, my skin pale white, and I looked at her face deep engraved in a scowl of pure fury; I could hear the whistles of the dead trees, their hollow branches encourage me to return her gaze. And I stay there watching and waiting for those eyes to swallow me whole. In my life, it was something that I felt now, something tugging me to pull away, get away as far as possible from her. Those eyes keep me at bay; even the monster seemed paralyzed, in shock and could not move.

I wanted to, I needed to. My body just didn't have the force anymore. "Please…" My arrested muscles began to move "…do not let me die here mommy" I begged, I wanted to leave, leave, wanted, needed, pain just pain…do not want the pain. Swallow my breath, string my muscles and joints. It took me a moment to realize that something was moving, across the snow. I could hear the snowflakes moving, making way to a form moving against it, or maybe I was just hallucinating; but given my current quandary of dire situation, I chose the latter in hope to see a dark prince emerge from the snow and blow Kate's gray matter out, caking it against the snow.

_Sirens…_

I could hear the sirens swallowing me whole. The sound of them making me squirm in uneasiness, my ears snapped in the direction. I clutched the snow for dear life, my chest hurts, can't feel my skin. Must not go into shock; almost slamming my head in the frosty snow, I let it fall. Lick my lips unintentionally, tang the frozen water. The entire surface of my body was tingling with cold fire from my need to be gone, to begin, to do the mighty unmentionable, but instead I took a very deep breath and put on a neutral face as far as my trembling body allowed me to. I returned my gaze to gaze to hateful Kate, brain dead and almost lifeless, no whispers in my head. I urged for the monster to come to me, but I was just greeted by empty thoughts of dead and unintelligible human panic that I trained myself not to have. This is it? The feeling of a near experience crashing with an approximated one was somehow exhilarating. I really wanted to look for her, look at her face as she murdered little ol' me.

What would happen to me? Where I would be buried? Will I have flowers around my grave? Will someone cry for me? Was I was just going to be thrown into a mass grave with the other bloodline of ununderstood girls? Tamely as I ever am with my inner demons and monsters, I really couldn't expect for them to be happy about my decision. My infinite perseverance to study the human mind taught me to treat people; the only factor I couldn't agree with was that blind frenzy of hysteria that plagued my mind. That madness that gritted my reality away, swiveling with alien voices inside my head. Screaming, tearing my brain piece by piece and then spit the pieces in a thwarted hope of sewn them back together again. I give up, no matter the long journey of suffering, the never endless nights of physical scars throbbing against my abused skin, scratching until I draw blood wishing it would stop. Im not normal, not that the word even brings me some perverse relieve even if I was one worthless pile of fake plastic humanity. I knew that I was human at sight but monster at heart; I certainly haven't seen the lowest point of humanity yet.

History books reserved private remarks about mass murders, psychology books talk about certain cases of documented illness that humans dare to oppose the calamitous evilness and then call these things abnormal, not typical among their pathetic ranks. Even as the recognition and understanding of mental disorders has changed over time and across cultures, that human inside voice, that small inner voice that told them to be indifferent, shove them away from them and their families. Destroy their heads until nothing was left apart from a violable body out of order. My studies will be halted here then; I could never draw a conclusion…

_Preposterous, ridiculous, coward, bullshit… _

Those voice shouted in our head, no…it is my head it had been like that always. The inception of putrefaction, their rotten voices invaded my mind and the monster shove them out now back with me. I snapped to reality she was telling something. Homespun dizziness turned my shivers into seizures, even as my lips trembled, my ears still worked properly

"Im not your fucking mommy!" She spat to me, a wave of sadness raged through me. I didn't know why, perhaps it was the fact that I never knew my mother. And I knew that in those mad frivolous nights of blood and rape, my thwarted innocence and memories turn me into what I am. But what is a life without a self into? I was cast out from a normal child hood into infinite days plagued with the sound of the rotting bed smacking against the faded green padded walls, keened into forbidden pain and miseries that no child shall suffer. It twisted me, it shatter my reality; if I was to have a mother how would she'll be? Would she express that hate that Kate was expressing to me? No that I blamed her, personally I kind of enjoyed that attention she was giving me now, it satisfied those days of paranoia she suffered. It gave her a purpose of protecting their children from me, from the love seeking attention that I felt since I escaped from my nightmarish hells. It left me thoughtful…why I cant feel like that? Protected….loved? I wanted to feel like that, not like that gripping feeling of my wounds starting to pulsate through my clothes nor my coldness seizing the bitter ground to steady myself.

Kate dropped in all fours, dragging her body with her to Max. I watched her, studied her. But it was the end of the line for me; I now could stop to ignore those shouts and yells not too far from us. The sirens and the deep screeching halts of tires in the frosty road. She yelled at me; call me a bitch in front of deaf Maxxie facing me with her back. And she spun around, holding something in her hand; my ragged breath came again, faster with irritated exasperation and a gripping fear.

""You…you-how dare you to mess with us!? With my family? WHAT THE FUCK DID WE DO TO YOU?! Oh god, you, you mother fucking piece of shit. You killed John, YOU KILLED HIM! You rotting deceiving fuck...I-I'll kill you, I WILL KILL YOU! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!" She screamed to me, now cocking the revolver in her shaking hands, but leaving it facing the snow. The muscles of my face trembled as I tried to formulate a coherent answer for the gibberish I just heard. But all that came out was a deep intake of air. I still gave her the benefit of a phony smile, a little more hard that I've ever done so far. I wanted to yell at her, shove my thumbs into her eyes and explain my motives to her…instead of my idiosyncratic approach when things like that or like here presents to me; I laid there unmoving in the snow, just the shaking of head as I tasted quivering breaths. I licked my gums, and let out my tongue to taste my lips. Keep them warm and slippery, by the way her hands now shuddered and her eyes hardened, I could tell that the cold didn't have to do with that.

Slowly at first, my eyes lined with the revolver rising in her hands aiming right at my head. I didn't care for her eyes; just see her finger in the trigger made me realize that this was it…I was going to die. Silver snub noosed revolver aiming at my head; the world stood still. Its funny, people said that in the moment of your demise, your life passed right through your own very eyes. But nothing came just the whistling of the leaves, wander lusting in the dirty sky of icy blizzard, the air rustled, and shadows appeared just before us.

"FREEZE!"

A voice echoes through the night. I barely need to look to my right to know that someone had already come; three figures around ten feet from us. Ah, the cavalry just arrived. I always found myself imagine Canadian police as man horses dressed in fiery red coat, navy blue pants and sparkly riding boots, must be memories of watching Dudley Do-Right standing triumphant over the stereotypical Snidely Whiplash villain extraordinaire. As a substitute for the alternate curved reality of my twisted fantasy I found myself with two men in clotted in dark blue uniforms, clasp with a yellow green phosphorescent jackets that made them gloom in the dusky sky, the moonlight peeking over to see the outcome. Their eyes were fixed in Kate, hand guns raised to her; unblinking, unmoving, not like the wreck of nerves standing with a revolver to my head. I pay no attention to my saviors; instead I fixed my gaze into the third man. He was dressed in a black trench coat with a gray suit underneath; he was holding a pretty big gun that left Kate's in shame.

He was handsome in a way, high and hard cheek bones, firm round face, dirty brown hair and a beard that looked unshaved from days. His hardened cold blue eyes stopped any rational thought in me; not there was any.

"Put the gun down!" He yelled aiming at Kate. His voice was so masculine so full of life, but with pinch of gruesome voice that I immediately liked. His hands were rough, his skin with a normal healthy white color that I did not held, his lips snapped into a thin line of concentration. Leather shoes, silver watch at his right hand. His spiky hair flown from the rightful wind, he was harsh and precise I could tell. Former army man? A violent marriage? Or maybe I was just facing a cold killer, I couldn't tell but I wanted to, I needed to know him.

"Wh-why are you doing…she try to kill my family shoot her, you idiots! She is not a child! You have to believe me, please...She-she is not a child, she's not. I have proof! She killed my John, my Daniel. God why? Please you have to believe me" She screamed back at the cops, motioning with the revolver at me. She continued to yell unintelligible things at them. Yet they yelled back to drop the gun.

"Please ma'am, just drop the gun, we can help you..." One of the piggies's said.

What a bad move...trying to argue with the killing call of the human nature; deep days of frustration of your truth being denied. Accused of being paranoid, the death of your loved one...of your soul mate. And Daniel, oh dear, dear Daniel fighting for his life in the hospital. Better yet, your only chance to get the only call of revenge to the sweet and innocent tainted murderer Esther. And yet here we were...its like to tell a butcher to not cut the meat. And he will cut it, I couldn't argue that the motives for the killing wasn't that uncalled for. She wanted to do it, she wanted to press the trigger and kill me. She wasn't being rational, she was hopeless. How ungrateful destiny had befall into me. For a part, I had a very deep and emotional attachment for life and another deep side of me just wanted to watch Kate die in pain in a very systematic way of deep steps before my eventual demise. Such as, well maybe a very painful death for starters? Yet again, a voice I couldn't and wouldn't ignore wanted to use the cunning and cheating part to resolve this current dire predicament. And so I listened to the whispers, the idea was good; at least on paper. If I wanted it down, I needed to be fast.

"Mommy, m-ooommy. Don't you love me anymore? Please I a-Im so scared. Im cold" It wasn't far from the truth...however the results were just as I hoped them to be.

Kate turned sharply to me "DONT YOU FUCKING CALL YOUR MOMMY YOU BITCH!" One of the piggies's moved closer and closer. From the corner of my eye as I slipped my sight more to the snow; I watched her turn around to face the daring piggy, gun aiming at his head.

"Don't come any closer!" Two more piggy's joined the group, aiming at Kate from behind as the other two piggie's raised their guns to her; the man I had on my sights lowered his weapon.

"Easy, easy!" He yelled with that commanding voice, and so the others lowered their guns, keeping a very special distance between the ground and their target. And of course, the two victims here.

"Please ma'am, put the gun down. Nobody wants to get hurt, just drop the gun".

Kate shacked her hands to them, like if that was any help. "You don't understand, please. She's not a child, she's a grown adult. I HAVE PROOF! I can prove it to you, you must believe me. Don't be fooled by her! She is a killing monster, a monster. Just let me show you...please".

"We believe you ma'am just drop the gun please, we can help you"

Kate forced her head to the handsome piggy. "You want to help me?! Then believe me!" I wonder if lunatics like Kate could be kept alive for future training, in this kind of situations. Although I couldn't decide if Max was needed for such an example. With their case of salvation left apart and another fruitless effort of 'drop the weapon' syndrome, the piggy's aimed their guns back to Kate as she lifted the snub nosed Smith & Wesson to my head.

"…TRY TO KILL MY KIDS, MURDERED MY HUSBAND, IM GOING TO SHOOT HER!" She keeps screaming in uproar, murderous tone and all. How low have you fallen Kate? Reduced to an incomprehensible person…welcome to my world. And if like cold was not enough, now I needed to withstand the abuse of the barrel to my head.

However, in my conked out state I could barely heard what she was saying now, unable to know what to do gazing again at the policemen's. The handsome and grisly handsome face, he was screaming but I could no longer listen. My visions began to pummel down to the point I almost got to use my finger tips to move my eyes in one direction to another. Kate, she keep screaming and shouting. That was the last thing I will remember of her, I was for sure as she cocked the hammer, sure with the firm intention of sending me straight to the morgue with mad screams.

There was a moment when I though she'd gone completely out of her mind when she suddenly changed directions of her aiming from me to the policemen. Given my animal and reptilian reasons and predictions, I could feel when I was threatened. The same thing, I guess went through the men as they proceed to unload every bullet into her body. Two seconds passed, I looked to Max trapped with a deaf scream of horror as bullets slammed into Kate; shaking and bound with shock, silent screams as fresh bloodied chunks of flesh leaping through the air, staining the snow with blood. The gun jumped out of her hands as she dropped almost next to me, forged thunders still rumbling. Bullet holes dripping with blood flooding like a river, visible poof of smoke in the cold air breathing the last long alive air.

I looked at Kate. She looked back at me, wide-eyed and broadcasting a hate that she would never be able to speak. So you see, sometimes there really are happy endings for monsters…

The next thing I saw was Max throwing into her body, shaking her, trying to let her stand up. Her eyelashes moved upwards as if trying to hug her and put a comforting hand. She stayed like that, very still with just the thrashes of a dying body. Kate's eyes gazed back to mine and stayed glued to mine, even after the cops kicked the gun and grabbed a trouncing Max from her, trying to utter a sound that never came, stained with her mother's blood. I returned her gaze, her muscles didn't respond anymore. I could imagine what she wanted to say or do. She was mortal like everyone else and so the alert gaze fell to a halt, eyes falling to the side…unmoving with blood flowing out her body staining the white snow a darkly red.

I was taken from the snow into the arms of the handsome policeman with a reassuring, yet warm comment of safety. He tugged me into his coat, slammed me against his chest and took off running shouting something that I was never able to hear. I wanted to watch back for Kate, that the firm hand in my head held me from it; I was tired so tired. My eyes now began to close, vision dancing around me, blues and red light dance to the beatings of my confusion. In spite of the incoming fade to black, I was able to watch the creamy interior of an ambulance, and I feel shoved in; thrown into. They toss and tugged me in a warm blanket; I was more alarmed when my water fest clothes were removed. Take the ribbons hiding my scars away; I wanted to thrash out, tantrums starting to dominate my mind. I don't usually found myself judging and weighting my options but it was somewhat difficult to protest in the current set of violent affairs. I watched them as far as my eyes let me, expose some neck, and let the shocking factor stop their actions, just for a moment I could picture heave an imaginative hand rip their internals just to cover myself with their intestines, and warm myself. The difficult part came when they removed my panties, socks and see my boobies. I always need to pretend that I am a normal human being in the very core of the word. However I always find ways to fool people, learn better ways. I knew that my strange case hypopituitarism stunted my growth for around five years. However it could be passed as a problem of premature puberty tantalized into this childish body.

They placed me in a comfy stretcher, splint straight my limbs, putting those cold sucky things against my chest and stomach. A machine blinked to life, the last thing I saw when I finally closed my eyes was the dark entrenchment like eyes of the Canadian piggy looking at me, I felt so warm, so light…

I could feel the blood that was intended to flow from my wounds rushing into my cheeks, leaving me blushing like a brat. Therefore perhaps, I am human in a sense too. It elicited a nary and dry giggle from me as I surrendered to the darkness and lost myself into her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Back into the dark, segregating mind and body. I feel pain, numb, dry as leaf, infinity of dreams and twisted pictures plagued by hideous things warped mind and brain alike; it felt good to have a nice night of sleep. Piece by small dim piece my brain was clearing itself of fog. I wondered how long I had been unconscious. And truthfully I felt just too relaxed; it kept being bizarre even for me. I blinked, everything was unfocused, woozy. The first thing I saw was my feet protected by the blanket that covered me; I move them just fine, just more in the weak side of condition.

Then as inexplicable as it sounds, I tried to bend my torso and immediately grabbed the bed's rail to steady myself. Like every single action in this world, is rewarded by a good result or bad result; my body decided to take me through a lesson to learn in the best way he could offer. A wave of nausea hit me, and I found myself steadying my body with both hands. And then the vomiting commenced with abandon.

There wasn't really a big surprise there; you see the human body is still an enigma. We could see how it looks like within and the outer flesh; we can study reactions and how every inch worked. But we can't never see how it thinks, how it behaves because it wanted to. It was alive, or it wasn't depending but who is to judge; you couldn't manage every single function of your body. That's why Mr. Brain did it for you, even if you didn't want to.

A straight line of vomit jumped from my mouth, I heard the splashing, touching the floor. My finger throbbed for a reason, forcing my eyes to work properly I could see a white gauze covering my index finger, just covered by the pinkish slime of soft blood. Then came another round of vomit; a brownish substance left my mouth again. Nowadays I was winding my torso like I sought too but not in the way I expected to be.

_Talking about karma…_

Only lungs wheezing for fresh breath, spitting abridged residual vomit. I could barely contain the quench for water that went alongside the need to twitter for a more comfortable way to hold my stomach as I empty my contents again. Throwing a generic reconstruction of the resent events, I could remember most parts of what I foresee we were in a fight to the death. Finally she was out of my life, this train of thought answered a few question but were pounded to dust by new ones.

The stench was building fast, like it seems Mr. Stomach doesn't behave accordingly to his natural functions; I needed to come out with a clever idea to get out of this stinky predicament for our sake…monsters tend to whine about it. Looking around the room for something that can get someone attention and I found it above me. I would like to get someone's' attention now just to call me a jackass. But while the glassy red button wasn't exactly a flare gun, it would do us some good to press it. I extended my hand, shakier than ever, groping around the wall until I found the eluding button and press it with my forefinger. It was dull, but almost soft to the touch; I expected some kind of noisy alarm to shout, but instead it just rest there shining into a blinking dry and red light.

Feeling suffocated by the twisting room I laid my head into the pillow.

Between dissertating moments of a splitting headache and the beginning of a near outburst, we didn't need to wait too long just before an old lady pocked her head at the door. I couldn't judge if she was happy to see a very innocent little girl that have just been draw out from a near coma after a terrifying encounter with her murderous mother…or maybe the silent sneer that came next after I supposed she saw the mess of slippery surprise that my naughty body have just presented to her. Still suffering from the aftershock, I was somehow alarmed when three people entered the room without counting the moofing lady; a man shouted to another something that I couldn't bring myself to hear. I glanced to the right, my head falling weak against the pillow, leaving a furious woman to mop my mess that would have liked to snap a cord around my neck and pull the plug; she left the room angrily or so I could tell after a few quick movements of her mop.

With not enjoyable time to pass the time inventing prefixes and quote my hate for the humanity, I was deeply and grievously forced to watch the white artificial lights on the ceiling. Flashing into me, making me dizzy and that lovely sonic boom after a swirling of voices came from the door, left with an irreclaimable yearning to taste some human misery…perhaps show these goons a little hospitality with a scalpel. I barely got to turn my head left, when the door crashed shut. They came to me; brandishing their deadly tools that would rip apart my body; I could only groan in discomfort when the female one opened one eye with her index and thumb fingers before shoving a small flashlight to my eye. Before voicing my worries and concerns that were crashing into an after though of making a massacre right here, one man that judging by the aged face and charismatically looking expensive lab coat was apparently in charge. He came close to me, he said something.

Imploring with my murderous implant like thoughts I forced my ears to listen, and the doctor repeated…

"-ar me?"

I swallowed what little saliva I held, his voice…it triggered a far away memory locked deep inside my mind. He sounded like those pedophiles that liked to torture my body with their lengths and fill me with their dirty deeds. He was like all those others, old, withered perhaps with grand children already. There's really never a motive for this sick perversions that the average blind human dare to call as "ordinary crime". Yet here I was trembling as my hands bailed into fists. A harp taste of anticipation building on my tongue as I was spoken in strange tongues.

"How are you feeling? Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes…" A barely audible syllable left my mouth, shoddier and weak…but what cant you expect from a confused child? This answer apparently was the one he was seeking. The female doctor placed her hand in my forehead, I felt so uncomfortable; but it was somewhat necessary, pretending was an art after all.

Behind an agonizing silence I added with a more firm tone. "I can hear you quite well"

I clicked my tongue against my gums, watching his face in need of clues of what where his intentions to begin with, even a precise killer couldn't be too careful this days. Wrinkles moving, smacking against each other in the form of a warm and bizarre smile. Not what I intended to expect, but still nothing of this told me anything.

I asked immediately for water, I think they forced down a smile and a nod and fetch me some water. Somewhat after an agonizing wait of two minutes of silence, the door opened and a hasty surprise was left in the face of the provider of my thirst as I snatched the glass away and bring it to my mouth abruptly. It was highly refreshing; I gulped down every single drop and found myself liking to take a forceful lick at the edges of the glass afterwards. I barely cared for the audience before me or the piercing eyes of the doctor. I always mused in my mind, just why doctors always looked so deceiving, just like myself. It was the fact that they knew so many things about the human nature, the abnormality of the untamable human mind; they could know anything in this world. I could judge by his appearance that this one was highly intelligent subject, like a more political and neutral way to see things that just facts versus reality type. Somehow like me in a sense of self liked individuality, always gathering human traits for my future use, until I could form an entiribly false life...perhaps living the so called 'American dream', with a lovely and abnormal normal husband, a daughter named Susie and a son called Bobby. With a loyal dog called Fido and our home decored with the stereotypical white fence over our very cared for garden.

I gulped, forcing a smile before opening my mouth. "Thank you". I said halfway truthfully. Why, I understand that the 'thanks' ritual its basically one of those most cherished moments in human heritage, and maybe an uncontrolled and one of those many default characteristic of many of us, like for example be grateful because you let a selfish bastard kept your life in a flask and survived; much likely like flushing the toilet, it is just a reflex after all. Still, appearances are first and so, with the mighty power of a forged smile, the doctor answered the expected followed words after the so called phrase.

"Everything for our special patient. After all that you went through, its the least I could do besides saving your life" He said with a big and fake smile, halfway smiling back and casting my eyes downwards in apparent misery, he continued his monologue. "I hope for a better life for you child". With a snort, he chuckled for a moment. "But where are my manners? My name its Dr. Viktor Lamar" He extended his hand, I did not take it. With another chuckle, he sprang his hand to his hair. Manners was not something I took cherish in, but at this moments; façade was not something I took cherish, fuck it, I corrected my brain. I wasn't really interested in cheating my host, besides looking like an innocent child who just had a devasting blow to her young and pitiful life was utterly adequate for the moment.

And so with another shocking false sniff, I lowered my gaze to the bed. "Where is my mommy?" Ah, that did the trick quite nicely. Shocked eyes and nervous glances around the round had to mean something, righty, right? However, those piercing eyes of the ol' good doctor stood their ground, although now somewhat warmer.

"You don't remember child?" I shook my head no, ol' doctor frowned. And in my spite of sham knowledge of false negation, I could only hope that I was left unaided to sleep some more. At least to stop that terrible taste of shit in my mouth, or to stop thinking about those loose ends that were left with the past episode. There would be hell to pay latter with those two; now I just wanted a question answered that has been bugging me since my rude awakening.

"Doctor?" I whispered.

He, snuggled closely to me, ear closer to my mouth. "Yes?" He asked expectant of a question, or a hatchet to his head; I couldn't imagine what.

Out of habit, I wet my lips. "For how long I was sleep? And where is mommy, you didn't answer my question. Why didn't you answer my question?" Perhaps it was too over acted, from my part.

"You were slept for four days child" He looked at a clipboard I haven't noticed on his hands. "As for your mother..." He double checked his papers and continued with me. "Well, she isn't among us anymore".

I battled with my muscles so a smile couldn't draw to my face, but knowing that the bitch of Kate hadn't survived her encounter with the hollow points, left me with an huge weight lifted off my shoulders. I could ever sing, or cry in happiness if this was an alternative universe. Eyes casted down and clenching my eyes out in fake surprise I began to cry and sob.

Everything was perfect, Viktor came to hug me. Saying here and 'there, there', and patting me in the back. But as the saying goes, 'Humanity is the only species that falls for the same hole'.

"She's better off dead" I parted my head so I could look at the owner of the voice; it was that bitch that dared to touch me without my consent, poking me with her fucking flashlight. The picture of Kate faded away with the apparition of a white woman around her thirties. Long dirty blonde hair done in a pony tail, pale green eyes and dressed in your usual today's nurse attire; a Bob Sponge shirt over her blueyish purple jump suit, damn flashlight, plus a pen in one pocket and finally that thing to hear your thump-thump that I always forget how is that called.

How many tears must I shed for my 'reality' for those to lean and sink to their minds, that you just don't tell such a thing to a child. However my ability to speak was shut down, as I tried to process a coherent answer. And with the need to give her and agreedence to her words; gladly, my monster in me saved the moment opening his mouth.

"Don't say that about my mommy! Take it back!" I shouted back, following the script he displayed to me.

"Gaelle! That was uncalled for. Don push it, your words don't fit your persona. Such a good child pediatrician you're turned out to be. We don't need your cynical manners declining over our heads, do we?" The good doctor couldn't be more congruent with my lines; maybe was he a Broadway actor before?

Cutting her in half with a set of sharp killer eyes, the doctor gave her the shot of grace. "We don't tolerate such behavior to our patients, especially a child. I want your attitude changed; we object against unprofessionalism do I make myself clear?"

"Listen t-"

"Didn't I make myself clear?!" Silence feint the moment, in anticipation of the doctor to spoke again. "We'll took this matter latter in my office, for the moment let Esther have a more welcomed residence in our humble room"

She sighed nodding her head yes, dropping her gaze to the floor, good...serves her right to meddle in other people business. Especially with my new tool for a better treatment perhaps. If I only had a machined carbon aluminum knife to cut this moment and savor it later, I was really happy how this happy meeting was shaping into something more than just a simply checkup. It was perhaps very childish, and amateurish move, but I couldn't help myself to taste some fun out of other people's misery and discomfort, especially when I was the source. Forced to fake a yawn, hand struggling to choke my mouth as I struggled to cut down my satisfied grin as I thought in the current situation at hand...hypothetically of course.

I couldn't really say that I trusted Viktor intentions to stay in check, after all with the same smile that he was giving me, was the same I took to heart when all those men, and sometimes women; forcing their cocks and cunts into my face or between my outer lips. Suffice to say, that I was still very weary as this toy that didnt came with instructions, and without thinking in another cornier phrase; I took the liberty to place my head back in the pillow as Viktor came to face me, only before giving the bitch in the corner, a nice glare...very touchy to say at least.

I could maybe be a masochist for the vicious part of me, but it wasn't for the don'ts and cant's; it was more an inside feeling. That hand squeezing your heart out wasn't present, just like it was me cracking a joke amiss a massacre.

Determined to let this moment linger, I grabbed the sleeve of Viktor and whispered the forgotten words of the moment. "I need to pee, please I cant hold out any longer" Half not expecting the good doctor to blink in disbelief, or the other inhabitants of the room start chuckling; I think they left me hanging right there. Wishing for better human comprehension, I took the raspy hand of the good doctor as he guide me to the bathroom to the other side of my room. I weakly opened the door, and let myself in.

Losing interest in my character, I turned to the good doctor standing in the doorway, and with the clear intention of letting himself in; I held my hand to his chest. "No peeking" I sneered, although with a smile that could be understood as a joke, if this was comedy, then please kill me now. Viktor just stood there smirking, and with no protest from him I closed the door behind me. Almost falling with my own feet, I loosened my hospital gown straps that strangely felt like the very familiar restrains of those shirts I was forced to use.

I wasn't carrying my panties...now, now; I needed to play my part in this. I was not in need for this kind of revelation, especially in my fuckingly good situation, but human needs come first. Later I could borrow a pair somewhere, maybe an unused pair. Shit...even reliving felt good at this moment, a nice stress reliever. The hiss of my breath, calm and relaxing as I laid my back to rest looking to the dull white ceiling, the call of nature went always unannounced, but it was complete as any, and never rejected, just as my need of a good kill. Closing my eyes for a moment, I could feel a memory coming in.

It was in that kind of building, where I latter learned the good ol' American vernacular meaning of the crazy house, if that irony got some sense in it. The people who come wondering here are born and raised by roaches.

The human problem is so bad, and the beds so few, that some of those glorious shelters that only in mother Russia could provide only a chair. The chair is yours as long as you sit in it. Once you leave, the chair is reassigned. Maybe for some fat fuck that suddenly smacked you in the head because you get a bit too relaxed on it, you stood immediately forcing your need to tear his smirk, grab those chubby shitty cheeks and pull until you hear the fleshly tear of flesh ripped apart. Except that orderlies watched your every step, if you fuck up, then you'll be punished.

"Chto vy sobiraetesv delatv?" (What are you going to do?) The named fat fuck said with a snort of lousy snorting laugher. Indeed, we were punished. Except I was the little and shiny 'brillint' (diamond)of the dear far my title went, I had more than a few privileges me self; and I recalled that there was a wonderfully engraved law that keep me from trouble when I lost my patience. Was almost worth the pain and rape of the dirty and forceful deed, _almost. _I keep looking at my clenched and unclenching fist across my eyes; it was, after all, just going to serve for one purpose and one purpose only. I recoiled my fist, and punch the moron center face, squirt of blood coming from the broken nose, whimper of pain as body batter the floor with her weight.

"Prastite, ya ne savsem ponyal, chto vy skazali" (I'm sorry; I didn't quite catch what you said). I assert to my fallen foe, peeling my eyes to her form liking my stress reliever more and more; however like a wounded animal, she threw herself to my leg in an effort to bring me down to her level. So much options and with so little to do; kick in the face to discombobulate, jump to avoid her or simple let myself fall in an effort to make myself easily carried to my room. So many choices, against the better doubt one could think that in this nut house, reputation was something very tight, and something as valuable as that wasn't easily replaced. Mighty blood lust, recompiles thoughts into the muscle of my leg, and thrust upward. Fit of blood implode from lips and by now broken nose, remuneration of the hit, relentless hands now rest in the toes of my worn out snickers.

Eyes hobbling around in the chow hall I am able to fee all those odd ogles, gurgle of hoots can be heard among the crowd sitting in their tables. Much laugher was had; the fun for everyone here was to die for, faceless smiles, all impetus of actions ponder around the required of the amusing fun displayed for those who seek pursuit of the human misery…human nature at its highest. Cries of giggles, fits of crazy induced, nature sin infested beings feasting in the lead of violence. Individual thoughts patterns of the insane; the unhealthy ones, always seeking to cut the reminder of who they were and what they have become. Welcome where the time stays still, angry screams revolting you to the core. This was another planet, separated from the universe; a galaxy itself called Saarne. Mentally deranged habitants grew and feed upon the weak, cannibalism common among us. Weather always cold, and resentful to us in a way that only could be explained with our caretakers; they think our heads are in their hands, orderlies always came with the sure intention of muting the mob of the medical insane headed for convey to their rooms---always I stood alone; I could only watch as my fallen foe clutched her bloody nose with both hands as she was lifted from the collar of her shirt.

Madness spreading through her like wild fire, convulsions starts, insanity grips your every thought. "Ete rukn! Ya nye mogu zabratv ex syebye vyenig!" (These hands! I CANT GET THEM OFF MY WRISTS!!!). Compulsory to watch, just for the surreal experience of this new breed of human race. So weak, easily moldable; ductile brain just waiting to be filled with ideas, man made sin confined to insanity, shaping their future with the snap of their fingers and breaking the broken. Progenies of a lesser evil, instincts castrated; the devil of this hell came forward to watch his offspring's. Smile tugged in the corner of his mouth, white coat covering his frame, sparkly black tag reading 'Карел Väravr'.

The dear ol' good doctor was home again. And so the devil of lofty evils approaches us in a nonchalant manner, disregarding the gathering of the insane. I could feel his steely gaze to me; feeling myself shaking in revulsion. I snap at him, rush to attack, spoon clutched like a weapon rising over my head with a tormented scream of anguish. A snap of his fingers and found myself in the floor, nuzzling the red stained cheek. A goon lowers his hand and return to his side.

The doctor bob down to my level, extending his hand. I flinch away, expecting more pain and so he whispers. "Ti takaya prelesnaya?" (Are you okay?).

"Esther, Esther? Are you alright? Did something happen? Are you okay?" I snapped back to my morbid reality, mapped thoughts dismissed. It was in this few minutes that I truthfully was awake, and it wasn't because of the annoying bang in the door. These memories, they always happened, either I let myself be submerged into them all over again or I answered the calls.

"I'm fine, just lost my mind for a moment, Im sorry for bothering you Doctor Lamar" I murmured to the door.

There was a sigh, I could feel his smile. "It's alright, and please call me Viktor, just call if you need anything". Came back the answer. I sighed inwardly. "I will Viktor" I answered back. Whatever has been lurking beneath it, was just gone; shadow disappearing from view. I sighed in strange relief; this doctor could be a pain in the ass when he wanted to. Closing my eyes, my memories stirred awake from their slumber, bombarding me with the sour reminiscence of their disgusting presence. No matter how much I battled with my inner self, was selfeses or selfs? Still not in complete understanding with English, still fighting and squirming with past memories that have long threaten my façade and meddling in my life.

_In that array of heavy winter, the segregated hell cold infesting my room that I kept clean in the hell I called a home. The snow outside howled, as so my insides, churning with that shit they called food. The rhymes of stomach noises gathered, Mr. Stomach had a sickness from the meat with cabbage that the orderlies served on lunch, that or the 'vitamin drink' that they so gladly made us consume. I could still hear the depraved commercial, boosting their product for the 'good' of the people, especially children like us. __Exceedingly difficult to sleep, I creep closer to my barred window. My freedom in my sight, snow blinded city with lights and countless dots cutting the darkness. The heavy frozen river lost over the infinite shade of whites and blacks from the maddening sky, moonlight always seemed full, never seemed to change. I was eight at that time, so full of innocence and…who the fuck Im fooling? I was already rapped; today I'll have a new customer that the doctor willingly presented her for me, out of the goodness of his heart of course. My engraved oscubus infame of somber distress constantly be evocative of my circumstances, in fact I think that its all what I did all day._

I gasped, awakening from the memory…not too lousy I hoped. When shadows didn't return, I left to fill the blank spaces. What did I enjoy to do when I was eight? Did I enjoy my constant contentment? Could it be useful? A memory snapped of me stabbing a nurse through the eye with a paper clip. Well…maybe not, it may well be fun memory to pass by but not properly functional in my current state of affairs. So many little stones, so many entrenched recalls of my need for somebody out there who could care for and love me all together, and reach for it; just holding to that feeling. But there wasn't any, there would be always tears, cum and that shameful pain of an excruciating ache of a cock running through you like a sharpened sword.

Movie reel just snapped into the projector, pull yourself together Mr. Monster this one it's about to get heavy.

Why do I get the feeling that just one of us it's going back?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dr. Karel Väravra has a reputation for partying late to the night, and tonight should not be different. And far as I remembered, this was an enclosable door; memory too tainted, too dirty with my blood and tears to be left alone. Tonight it's the night where monsters come at play, always the arbitrary imposition, rather than offer the illusion of free choice---you would be always stuck in a decision made from you. My innermost desires at the time was scoot and go to sleep, it was a simple need; but a must necessary one. I needed to clear my head and that annoying buzzing of the light bulb didn't give me hope to continue, nor there was any mind you. Boredom, there wasn't a better term to describe what I felt at the moment…I was alone. At the moment I wanted for something to happen above and beyond of that stupid electrical hum and the shallow breaths I swallowed and spat. It eliminates much of the uncertainty that has deliberately existed since you, well…expected your rape conceivably? Tired was not something that I took pleasure in, but at least it could setback the persistence of the client to keep ravaging me.

_Lrosto dexaneye lyekye, Leena (_Just breath easy, Leena) Mr. Brain keeps telling me, _still for what reason oh brain of mine?_ Jagged breaths still reigns into me, fear builds in me for what's out there, tasting my terror through the door. Already liking what I had to offer, shuddering in the delight while rapping the childless innocence of mine. There was a hiss of electrical pain going through the door, with some stubborn hits, the door was opened and now hope abandons my mind; let's seek the emphasis on "mind" for a second. For a mere reason that its called well, uh reason; I was approximately naked from toe to head, except for that thin white satin nightgown that I was forced to wear for the special event that the host so deliberately prepared for the principled guest of well, payment. In the seemingly no-boundaries world of child sex, a privileged customer pays for sexual services in congruence of satisfaction with their product. What we merely call standards anymore, are intertwined words long gone and forgotten, needs induced in laws and no more primitive mindful laws that always choose to extinguish our own man made commandments in this rotten world. Such needs were done in secret in accompany with those who were moreover followers of said deed or the contributor for the act to take place; just like a drug dealer, I defy to say. It's a rolling debate for how long society has fought with teeth and bones for child intercourse; in present time, those laws created for the wrong doer can still be scratched from out of the list, going to those specialists that keep the classic alive, with just a mindful fee. And in those burning bridges of lustful yearning of young sex partners; those men and woman, cross the bridge to it, always close the eyes to our suffering. At least I could make most of my time with watching curious and the curiosité eyes of the new guest into my chambers of sex.

I see with my little eye something that begins with the letter 'C', can you guess what it is? She was a chubby white woman, mid thirties, short brown yellowish hair, dressed in purple turtleneck sleeveless sweater that couldn't quite hide her giant tits, simple white pants and black leather high heel boots. She stood around 6 feet or so, I was never good to compare heights; it was more or less the size of the good doctor. For the blind eye, she could be your habitual good samaritan; charm smile lightening her features, hands with black manicured nails, teeth white as the snow that wailed in our outer prison. My room was embellished with the most naked essentials; a small bath in an inner door to my left. I sat in a queen sized bed, black sheets, warm dark red cover, a small night table to my left that displayed those wonderful toys that every child cherished with pure delight…condoms, leather whips, dildos, anal beams, strap on dildos, anal lubes and those warm fragrances that I rather flush them in a toilet. She followed my gaze and smiled warmly at me, terror like no other spread through me like poison poured in open bleeding wounds. She-devil sauntered slow but sure closer to my shivering form, there wasn't a thing that I feared the most besides another night of rape, and that was a façade of kindness.

I crawled further more out of her reach in a deplorable effort to get away from the sadistic pain that I would surely go throughout tonight, the wall didn't share my views and with a smack I found myself with no more run to escape except forward, where she was waiting with open arms.

"Come child, must take what its mine from right through force?" She spoke in strange tones; I did not knew another language besides Russian in those times, so maybe I couldn't offend her properly. I looked to Dr. Karel Väravra for assistance, but all that the bastard left me was a silent nod and a wave of his head to this perplexing female pedophile. Unalarmed by the vicinity of obscenity, the good doctor took out the protector cover of a camera over a tripod, conveniently placed just in front of the bed, at two people's reach. It was just insult added to ancient injuries, the camera started to film our happy time together. Then we began, our clothes removed, my own forcedly eradicated from me.

The divine love of a parent to a child, the goodness of a milky seed cared for, grown with absolutely love and kindness in their minds; a proud father place his hands over the enlarged belly of his only love; she returns the gesture with a happy smile. He is middle aged, wrinkles have dominated the tender flesh of his face, forty indicates an internal clock. The body pressed against his chest it's a young girl, soft brown hair beautifies her tender scalp, cheeks reddened. The man caresses her face; she strokes her cheek against his hand. They kiss---it is tender, love it's in the air. The man removes his clothing; the girl sat's in bed, spreading her cunt with her cum stained fingers. He is raging hard, as they fuck, the bed smacks fiercely against the wall. There are grunts of pleasure, blood and cum its exchanged; she cries and whimpers but wrongfully accepts what she mistakes its sweet love. Time advances, the trees moves with the landscape, act its repeated yet there's that satisfying pleasure as muscle give in to the meaty invazor. Time swallows minute after minute, days are forged; sun and moon disappears and peak over the horizon continually. Four months had passed already, the young girl accepts the cost of their so call love; from dusk till dawn the man contemplates what he had just created. Woman its sleep, the man gaze over her sweaty body glistening in the pale moonlight, he swings his legs from the bed and makes himself out of the door. He travels to the kitchen and reflects staring at the shining knife blinking his eye, just shaking with exciment to be used. And so he shakes, trembling with fear for the thoughts emanating from his head. So he leaves the kitchen, his hand travelling along the wall to catch the switch that kills the light. Still he looks over his shoulder, and there the knifes shines, whispering understanding words for his skilled hands. They twitch; they intertwine between each other, the hand calls for the blade. It remembers the feeling of that wicked and rusted blade coming down and up, splashing those equally disgusting, yet red paints the room where a naked girl lays in bed; she is young, far too young that he remembered, he attacks the bulk of her heavy pregnant stomach.

_Twap, twap…_

The knife falls and rises, like the unmasked regular feeling of breathing. The blade slices and dashes, he laughs like a child playing with a toy. The man digs on her flesh, feeding from her shocked face, lusting over the spilled blood that stains his torso and walls, he screams as he ejaculates inside his pants. The man drops his knife, blood stains the carpet; he rises both of his hands, meeting his gaze with blood that cries over his skin. He sights blissfully. A hand flashes to the ceiling sooner than flying to her open stomach, another grabs the edge of her severed open flesh. The pressure of his hand makes blood squirt; it hits his naked chest sliding over a tattooed swastika. The movement stops, he found what he was looking for; a thump parts her intestines away, a pair of eyes meet his own, small whimper of a taken breath. He removes a bloodied piece of flesh from the body, it is shaking, arms and legs spread. He rises the piece of meat to his eyes, clears the blood from the serrated flesh, where the eyes and nose meet. The man looks down at the umbilical cord, places it over his teeth and bites, there's an idiosyncratic scream.

He gasps and awakens from forgotten memory, running away back to his love.

There is that strong kick, restrained from a soft tissue barrier. The father is impressed with the energy of his offspring, thus he cut the distance between his love and he, a kiss it's given, a laugh it's shared, time prejudice the gorgeous moment. And spite the constant mod swings, the strange mixture of consumed food. The father, like the good husband he is, pays with the patience and understanding that only he has; the wife understands; hitherto her worries banish, it's been just five months. The woman remains in bed, clutching an injured hand, blood flows freely from an open cut palm. The knife that she clutched to cut meat clatters to the floor; flesh and warm blood splatter to the ground. The father comes, hearing the utterly pained screams of his young love. A tainted memory flashes, the man shatters it with a swing from his head and helps to bandage her wound, not before licking it.

I awake inside my dreams, not quite thinking what was the fortune of that impious man that haunts my dreams in the interior of my tattered memories. Aerial demoness tainted forever with the memory of two wedded fingers inserted in my cunt. I was a triumph of the consequences of a bad choice gone wrong. I screamed, looking for some help, all that came of my pleading gaze was to see the doctor groping his crotch as he cracked with excited laugher. She bended me over, thrusting her tongue into my anus as she fingered my cunt. That strange familiarity numbs my senses, she is still licking, lustful for my pussy juice, revolting them with her tongue as she touches herself, and pinching my small puffy nipples. Gritting my teeth in restrained pleasure, my legs opened further to give in to the heavy plumpy woman in top of my body. Feet curling in hated delight as I cried and whimper with childish sobs. The woman cries too, she can taste my sadness lifting her body and peeking with her head upside down. She thrust her hairy cunt; it has a strange scene to it. Mucus and pussy juice glisten for it, she makes me touch it. I shudder in repulsion, withdrawing my hand, rolling my head to the side.

I still cry, even more as she whispers 'You are an angel' in perfect Russian. She rolls to my side, closer to the night table and makes use of her hand to clutch that purple dildo. I saw this face, this vision of rape, of envisaged happiness. Screams meet my ears, my eyes bleed my tears, I could head how my flesh tears away, and blood pours to the sheets. I can't take my eyes to the invazor of my body, coiling in my insides. She-devil watches with tear stained eyes, so she laughs.

"Moy angyel, tak krasevo" (My angel, so beautiful). It was a violent pornography, empty and discontent. Arms wrapped about my shivering form, that woman kissed and licked prior to smelling my neck and going upwards to launch an attack in my earlobe, she bit I screamed loudly. It hurt, so I whimpered in pain. These were those kind of empty walls in which I was constantly attacked, the dildo still moved in my interior gushing shit and blood to the bed. She must had been a very strong woman, hard willing to lend a helping exciter hand and with nostrils of steel as I smelled the shame of my own piss. Subsequently the yellow rain started; I had been slapped before for such treatment to my customers, but this were those sick fucks who actually enjoyed being showered by human smelly waste, especially a child such as I was.

"Ax mu ahgyel zapchktvsya, те krasavetsa pozvolvtyo мhе pozabotetvsya ob etom" (Ah my angel dirty himself, you beautiful creature let me take care of that). In the toilet I zoomed out for a moment, I fast-forward a little there and there, even for me, some details are better left forgotten. I stood cleaned as that blonde fat bitch pushed me down the bed and dropped to slowly down my body leaving butterfly kisses, as she went to my lower body, I disgustingly opened my legs for her; it was dirty and even fucking depraved for my part, my body was in automatic and as a blood sucking vampire, she attacked my outer wet lips with gusto.

"SHYET!" I couldn't let my pleasure going unnoticed, so washing with depravity and disgusting self hate, I let immerse in that pedophile ministrations. She lapped my hole like a dog would lick his bone, shuddering to my care in unpredictably sightless bliss; exhaling painfully didn't get me anywhere. She was still busy drawing circles with her tongue around my undeveloped clitoris, here and there kissing my crotch, tickling my feet with her small manicured nails. You may even think that this was a walk in the park and very good experience that surely will get me in the right direction of a sane life of a role citizen, helping it with my supposed role…that was what transpired over my life? Was it? Okay maybe not; reflectioning how my blood pressure seemed to go on the loose, my nerves about to peel from my skin by themselves and my heart suddenly attempting to grab the azygos vein to kill himself didn't left me with hoping expectations. Chest expanding and contracting hastily under the piston mechanical heartbeat of my heart. Hands exploring my skin, departing with goosebumps as they travelled. Trusting fingers enter my cunt again, ingoing the arena of pulsating flesh; saliva and pussy juice mixes, Im not ashamed to say that I was certainly wet and ready for some heavy pounding and being honest for a moment right here, I would had rather being in another place than in a bed with an old creepy old geezer watching and another fat fuck lustily ravaging my body.

Then came the shocker and fuck did that hurt me? In that solemnly jiffy, I brought my left leg to my chest and then upward so she thought I was going for a more pleasant position…all of course in good of the costumer and in the name of a high-quality service. When she went to torture my nerves with her tongue again I kicked her right in the face. Mind you, I did not had that much physical force in that time; well I still didn't hold it, still results reciprocated with her bloody face made a mess with blood; she did appear thunderstruck as she check her nose for the bloody mess. She had odd spellbound look on her, her fantasy had just died and struck a chord within her. Screaming in immediate fright as she lunged at me, the woman seized me from the arm and, connecting a painful slap to my face. I spat blood from a broken lip leaving no scream to match my surprise as she lifted me from the bed and fling my form against the wall. It hurt a lot, head impacts the wall. Feeling was not something that I remembered in that moment. Vision dances across your face, maybe it did had to do with that thump crossways my face; hands now sliding to my undeveloped hips. I can feel that bitch rubbing me with the tip of her fingertips at my wedded entrance, then I was truly ensure of the blatancy situation nor my mind recognized as a plastic feel at my opening turned into a sharp thrust at my cunt.

Not only did I screamed with that tearful ear shattering yell, she also did, clearly enjoying the milling and grinding the meat of my insides. She-male deeply thrust her fatty hips and sink her fake cock as far as she could get inside of me. The pain was unbearable, I rather would like to shoot me dead; I closed my fists around the sheets in an attempt to hold back my screeches of agony, just to not to give her that satisfaction of my pain as she keep raping me. I sobbed, screamed, kicked, tears and mucus ran down my chin still the sharp pounding didn't stop but keep going faster, ripping apart my insides as it slide it in and out, shove of plastic against my tight flesh. Pumping more rapidly, she-male picked up her phase, humping and panting like a dog; she screamed and stopped just for a second, and I wished she wouldn't have done that, as I shat myself again. My skin was on fire as shit and blood poured in the sheets

Learning can be fun and traumatizing as I laid there contemplating how did it turn out like this? If this was a lesson to be learned was that people weren't to be trusted, everyone had that distinguished ability for being monsters, even women. Sobbing and trying to crawl out of her grasp, the bitch grabbed me from my hair pulling my head to her ear; as she struggled with her exciment to formulate an answer, she traced my jawline with a finger.

"Us hye vyesyelo, ahgyel?" (Wasn't it fun, angel?). There wasn't any inner force, and not an ounce of will left in my body apart from the sore pain of my burning asshole and the smell of ragged shit, the blonde bitch withdraw her thing from me with a wet pop. I winced painfully as the tip was about to go out, she trusted back in with such force that my eyes widened far as they could get.

Tears of penetrating pain invaded my eyes, I held the sheets to my hands, watching the ceiling as she started all over again, bulged veins of my asshole exploded, I was sure as the sound of ripping flesh invaded my ears. There was just that lovely sound of groans of pleasure filling the air, excluding my sobs and the usual laugh there and there. 'Posalooysta Prosto ostanovetyesv', it's the Russian for "Please! Just stop". Even though she was currently deaf and engaged in rubbing the shit and blood stained head of the fake penis in my cunt.

Dreams were by now made winding through my head and body. My lack of comprehension was expired, in that moment I truly faced what a single human was capable of doing to a defenseless one, just for the sake of their pleasure. So another customer satisfied…where was my payment? Would I have the Barbie doll I always wanted for Christmas? Doctor please would you let me use some of that hard earned cash to buy something nice for myself? Ha…of course not; there was just that single wicked smile of the doctor as he held a hand to finish the other half of the payment as she devil dressed on with a flesh mirror smile on her features, as she fished through her pocket to dig up a roll of bills depositing it on the happy extended hand.

She looks so happy; I don't have the heart to point out the obvious of what she had just done to me. And even happier when the good doctor gave them a humble video tape to record our activities for the good of the affluence of mankind and future generations who could achieve that wonderful love between an adult and a child…how lovely. I was ready for someone to put me down out of my misery, didn't need and wouldn't use the towel thrown at me.

This was my life; I wanted to remain buried forever. I didn't want to watch the reminiscences of wounds scarred into me by pedophiles, child soul torn into pieces by cocks and cunts taking bits and bits for their own selfish pleasures. My misaligned life it's what it seems to be among the rejects of society buried beneath the deceive god to protect me from past experiences…but there was hope out there. Among all my fucked up mind and problems, there was always that shining thought of love that could cut through the darkness, that unaccompanied wretched feeling that we all call love always into the tempest of my mind.

_Someone kick me out of my mind, I hate this thoughts!_

Ha, wasn't funny enough?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Projector starts to flicker, screen its tearing and burning then it just disappears with the shatter of the tape disappearing among the disemboweled white screen. Im awaken eyes snap open and look around; I could hear voices, unimportant conversion reach my ears outside of the door. I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers; Im drained and sleepy. I often think about such events that mislead my life into what I am now, what I embraced for convictions. What it takes, who I am, where I've been all my years of murderer life? Belong was not a choice that much I can realize.

_Ha…was your right_

My monster tickles my spine. Never wanted to give the right to him to make wrong my nature, so there I sat gripping the toilet in one hand and the other, holding my hand against my bleeding fingernails---wait that came out wrong, figures.

There its a knock in the door.

"Esther!? Esther? What happened? Are you okay?" Female voice, never wanting to keep the voice waiting I snap to reality.

Nagging thoughts disappear, beneath the shadows of a doubt I clear out my throat. "Just a second!" Well, wasn't that sufficient. I stood for what seemed like ages of torment, but just before I could make contact with the shiny gold doorknob, I flipside my toes to the mirror. I wasn't someone to judge my appearance as I didn't gave a fuck; there was a lot to say however. My lips were split in 2 places, a nice strap of black stitches held busted skin up my nose. The right side of my forehead was covered in white gauze dirtied with pinky blood. Apparently enough, I looked like well, ah shit. Gasping in surprise didn't held the nice feeling of surprise here as opposed to fake surprise; my skin was paler than white, a deep red line runs down my nose. It'll leave scars, they always did I thought caressing the scars of freedom in my neck.

I was lied to and misled by the Russian orphanage workers about the depth of my troubles, however if something I could agree with, was the satisfaction of my liberation…but that was a story for another day. That perfect classic remembered gave the rabies, and the sleep of a giant who had just fell down a giant tree. I did not mutter a word from my caretakers nor did I encourage their questions with answers, but I was left alone, the doctor saw to that.

Ignorance it's really a misdeed but that doesn't matter, you can't help but talk about how much a fuckups they were. Surely was I going to have some fun to go around my boredom? I don't have a label for I defined as fun, that word could be translated from a muted laugh when watching Tom and Jerry or getting a butcher knife through the eye for those who annoy me.

The now is devil show? Too much thinking eventually let my brain to well, should we say shut down? And with the calmness of a psychopath, I killed the light of the room closing my eyes; turning my head sideways sleep came immediately as I traveled to the land of content sleep.

Sounds like a very complete schedule, doesn't it?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Author Notes: **The first chapters are always the hardest, especially in this new fic. Don't worry you wont be seeing a long chapter like this in a long time, but surely I'll enjoy writing this. If you have some bits of sanity left then voice your doubts, concerns of plain complains in a review. So ah Im exhausted, 4 am on Venezuela and Im trying not to pass out from sleep.

So until the next chapter then…

From Venezuela

D4rK


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